


Made from Scratch

by evansrogerskitten



Category: Dean Winchester - Fandom, John Winchester - Fandom, Sam Winchester - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Hunting, Language, Pie, Skinwalkers - Freeform, Smut, Surrogate family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evansrogerskitten/pseuds/evansrogerskitten
Summary: Reader falls in love with John before she realizes it. But is she ready to accept the two children that come along with the deal? A story of love, loss, and pie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one wrote itself. True Magic. I hope you enjoy it.

 

 

Hunter’s Creek was one of those stereotypical small towns where everyone knew each other, and you never had to worry about leaving your doors unlocked. Family owned businesses lined Main Street, and planters full of bright flowers bloomed every springtime. I’d been born and raised in Hunter’s Creek, so staying there as an adult and opening my own business was the next step in my ordinary life.

I was baking bread at my shop when I got the call. My breath caught in my throat as the sheriff said that something had happened to my father, and I needed to come home.

I hung up and shoved my phone into my apron pocket, grabbing my jacket as I flew out the door.

“I need you to close up!” I yelled behind me, the lone bakery employee stunned to see her boss run out so fast.

I gunned my truck down the road and raced to our little yellow house, panic rising up in my chest as I saw an ambulance and two sheriff cars parked in front. Shoving the truck into park I abandoned the keys and left the door ajar as I ran towards the small front yard. I searched the faces, looking for my father.

The sheriff came over and looked me in the eyes, lightly resting a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry Y/N. Your father is gone.”

With wide eyes I looked over my shoulder and saw a white shroud on the green grass, the shade of our willow tree lingering over the body.

I stumbled towards him, falling to my knees. I started to pull the sheet back, but a paramedic stopped me. I looked up to him and the sheriff.

“What happened?” I cried, my hands grasping at the grass to hold me upright.

“We think it was an animal. Probably a wolf.” The sheriff replied.

“What?” The sunlight reflected off of his glasses and it hurt my eyes to look up.

“C’mon hun, let’s get you inside.”

I gave up control as the sheriff dragged me to my feet, the shock like a steel bar swinging into my stomach.  A paramedic sat down next to me on the porch and took my blood pressure, calmly reminding me to breath.

All I could do was to stare at the yellow paint that was peeling along the porch railing, my mind and body going numb. I dropped my head in my hands and didn’t look up again until the sheriff came over to ask if he could call someone for me.

I looked up bewildered, confused as to why he was there for a moment. “I’ll...I’ll call them.”

With my father dead everything in my life changed. I was alone in my father’s house, planning a funeral, and accepting condolences from out of town relatives I’d probably never see again. I was alone. No family, no one to take care of. Just my bakery and the little house. And a nagging belief that there was something more to my father’s death than a wolf attack.

But I wasn’t the type to curl up in a ball and mourn. I had to do _something_. So I started reading obsessively at the library and repeatedly showing up at the coroner’s office with more questions. I quizzed people in town about what they’d seen. But no one had seen my father that morning. I hunted for information, never giving up because I knew there was something more.

And then, three more murders in town, all within a week, all killed by an animal ripping hearts out. Urgent warnings were broadcast to keep pets and children inside and to lock windows and doors. Hunter’s Creek wasn’t a quiet, safe town anymore.

I grew more and more desperate as people continued to die. Why would a dog rip out and _eat_ people’s hearts? My instinct screamed at me but no matter how far I searched for answers, I couldn’t find out what or where the animal was.

Help finally rolled into town in a black 1967 Chevy Impala.

I hated John the first time I saw him. He was rude, brash, and his jacket sleeve was stained with blood. He brushed past me as I waited off to the side at the most recent murder scene. I followed him to his car, calling out twice for his attention.

“It’s dead.” He announced gruffly, dropping his gun into the trunk and slamming it shut.

“What was it?” I cried desperately, running up to his ajar door.

“Monster.” John replied. He finally looked at me, meeting my eyes. For a moment something there softened, and I saw a honey brown that comforted me. But then he was back in his car, the ignition starting with a loud growl.

“Thank you!” I called out over the engine.

John nodded and then he drove off.

It wasn’t a day until the fifth murder. And now I knew. I knew there was something more out there. After work I went out to the farm where the most recent murder had happened. I told myself it’d just be to investigate, and I’d be gone by dusk. The residents weren’t in the house, so after circling the yard I walked out to the barn, calling out to see if anyone was home.

The snarls were what I heard first. I slowly turned, seeing a rabid angry German Shepard in front of me. I knew I couldn’t outrun it, but locking myself in the barn also seemed like a terrible plan. I slowly backed up with my hands in the air. The dog growled once more, and then I was running through the fields of wheat behind the barn, the sunset stealing my light as the snarls and sniffs followed.

“Get down!” Someone yelled behind me.

I dropped onto the ground, trampled wheat stalks pressed to my face. One shot and a high pitched cry from the animal, and it was over.

I pushed myself up off the ground and shuddered as I looked over at the naked figure behind me, transformed into a human now that it was shot dead. 

“You.” I said, looking into his eyes.

“Yeah, me.” He chuckled. “I’m John.”

I smiled and reached out my hand. “Y/N.”

And then, as they say, the rest is history.

John stayed in town a few days, taking me out to dinner, drinking and talking late into the night, and making love to me like I was a glass of cold water in the blazing desert. I needed him just as much, forgetting my dark grief as I found light in him.  

He didn’t talk much about himself, but listened as I told him about my father and his death. Now that I knew the truth about monsters, he told me more, pausing occasionally to make sure I was okay for him to go on. It comforted me knowing that he was out there, killing the secret creatures that took so many lives.

Early one evening John showed up to my house the day he was leaving. But he wasn’t alone. His left hand rested on the shoulder of one surly teen and the other on the shoulder of a smiling boy.

“Hi Y/N. I thought I could introduce you to my boys.”

I nodded, pushing open the rickety screen door so they could all come inside. The older boy dumped his bag on the kitchen table as he fell into one of the wooden chairs. He folded his arms with a sigh and stared out the window.

“Yeah, so that’s Dean.” John said, tilting his head to the boy at the table. “And this is Sammy.”

Sam stepped forward and stuck out his small hand. “Hi. Call me Sam.”

I smiled and shook his hand. “Hi Sam.” I looked over to the older boy who ignored me. “Hi Dean. I’m Y/N.”

John pulled me into the living room as the boys settled at the table.

“I don’t want to ask this of you cuz it's probably over the line. But I’ve got a big lead on a case, something really evil. And I can’t take the boys.”

I realized quickly what John was asking of me. “How long will you be gone?”

“A week, tops.”

“Are they in school?”

“Ummm, no. But they can be, for a few days.” He shrugged his shoulders.

I looked over my shoulder at the two boys. Sam was playing with toy soldiers and Dean was lounging across the table reading a car magazine. I couldn’t believe I was agreeing to it, but a voice inside told me to say yes. Maybe caring for someone again would help me heal.

“They can stay, John.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll pay you for watching them.”

I shook my head. “I can’t miss work though. And they should get into school, at least for now.”

“Deal.” John responded, pulling me into his arms for a tight hug. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

John walked back into the kitchen and informed the boys they’d be staying with me while he followed up on a case.

“Now you listen to Y/N, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Dean rolled his eyes, muttering a quiet “Yes sir.”

Sam nodded, and then looked over at me. “Do I get my own room?”

I looked over to John warily, then back to Sam. “Uh, we only have two bedrooms here, so you guys will have to share.”

“That’s fine.” John responded gruffly. He kissed my cheek, and with a quick thank you and goodbye he was out the door.

I turned to the two boys still occupied by the car magazine and toy soldiers.

“Ummm, you guys hungry?” I asked, walking over to the kitchen counter. “I think there’s blackberry pie here somewhere.”

“Pie?!” A voice asked incredulously behind me. Seconds later Dean was next to me, looking down at the berry pie resting on the counter. “I love pie.”

I laughed. “Well that’s good. I’m a baker. I make pies, bread, other goodies.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide as I cut and handed him a piece. “You may be my favorite babysitter we’ve ever had.”

I laughed again and cut a piece each for Sam and I, and we sat down in the kitchen in a comfortable silence.

That one week turned into three. I knew the boys missed John, even though he called every few days. The boys fit in at the new school without any major drama, and slowly they started to feel safe.

I liked John. I got butterflies in my stomach when he called, and I loved it when he’d mutter ‘goodbye sweetheart’ in his deep voice as he hung up the phone. I wanted to spend more time with him. But there were layers to this family that would take me awhile to understand.

One Sunday my bakery provided treats for the local the local church’s Easter egg hunt, and I dragged the boys along. After arranging the pastries, I turned to see Sam searching for the brightly colored plastic eggs, while Dean hollered at him from the sideline on where Sam should look. Sam’s face was elated as he found the treats in the wet grass.

“You mean all of this is free?!” He shrieked as he flipped plastic eggs around in the cheap blue basket I’d gotten for him at the dollar store.

“Yeah man, that obese pink bunny left ‘em for you.” Dean teased, plucking an egg from the basket to pop the candy out.

“This is awesome!” Sam replied, running across the grass to find the kids from his class.

Dean smiled, fiddling with the empty candy wrapper. “Thanks for all of this, Y/N.”

I looked over at his serious face, seeing the weight of responsibility he still carried. This kid had grown up too fast, and I knew he still mourned for his mother.

“Dean, you guys are welcome here. I...I guess I was lonely before. It’s fun to hang out with you guys.”

He grinned and looked over at me. “Cool. Can we go get some pie?”

I nodded with a smile, and followed him to the folding table set up in front of the church. Lord knows if that kid would ever have trusted me if I hadn’t fed him his favorite dessert so often.

And then before I knew it, those boys were like my own.

When Dean had nightmares about the fire, he’d let me sit at the edge of his bed until he fell back asleep. Sam let me help him with his homework, and they both begrudgingly agreed to a regular weeknight schedule- dinner/homework/two TV shows/bedtime. I could see the structure was comforting to them, especially Sam.

When John came back from his trip he was surprised and thrilled to see how well the boys had adjusted. I made dinner, and John and I drank the bottle of wine I had splurged on. With the boys sound asleep by 9:00 PM, John leaned across the table and took my hand.

“Thank you again for taking care of them while I was gone. It means everything that they were safe.”

I nodded, setting down my wine glass. “They’re great kids, John. I really enjoy hanging out with them. Even Dean.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I mean it though. They’ll always remember that they had a regular home for a few weeks.”

I tilted my head as I watched him. “Why do you say they’ll remember?”

“Well, we have to move on in a few days. I have something big I’m hunting, and I gotta go find it.”

I folded my arms. “I’m sorry you have to leave. I don’t want you to.” John smiled at me in response. “But there’s no reason the boys have to go too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they’re in school. They like it here, they’re making friends.” I paused, choosing my words. “John, they’re growing up, figuring out who they are. Maybe a home is what they need right now.”

John clasped his fingers and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m their father.”

“I know. But cheap hotel rooms, and convenience store food, being alone for days- or weeks- at a time...they need more.”

“I don’t know.”

“John, it's only been a few weeks, but I care about those boys. It’s nice to have someone to take care of again.” I sat back in my chair and put my hands up. “But they’re your kids. You decide. I’ll just say that I’m okay with them staying for a little while more. Decision is yours.”

I barely got the last word out before John pulled me up and out of my chair, carrying me to the couch as his lips melded with mine. I moaned against him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

He carefully laid me down on the couch, his body resting on top of mine. He kissed me tenderly, his tongue languidly stroking against mine as I ran my fingers through his wavy hair. His hands moved from my cheek, to my neck, to the buttons on my blouse, slowly plucking them open as his lips stayed on mine.

Once my shirt was open, his hand spread across my stomach, rediscovering my skin until he reached my lace covered breast. I gasped as his fingers slipped under my bra, teasing me as I squirmed below him.

“John.” I moaned quietly, moving my fingers down his back to tug up his long sleeve shirt. He sat up on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his broad chest decorated in soft curls and tattoos. I struggled out of my blouse and bra, leaning my head back down against the pillow as he loomed over me.

He kissed me again, harder, as if he was trying to forget everything, and all that existed was the two of us making love on my worn couch in the quiet living room. I groaned underneath him as his bulge pressed between us. We found each other again, grinding our hips together, moaning against each other’s skin. John peppered my neck with kisses as I tugged on his hair.

He stood and undid his belt, dropping his jeans and boxers to the ground. I wiggled out of my skirt and panties, opening my legs for him as he joined me on the couch. He kissed me again, and looked into my eyes. There was a smile of contentment, relief, and a little sadness. I placed my hand on his cheek, telling him silently how happy I was. He leaned his head against mine, slowly pushing into me with a low groan.

He waited a moment, us panting and wrapped around each other before he moved first. We both moaned quietly, still somewhere conscious that the boys were upstairs sleeping. I wanted so much to growl at John, scream his name, and ask him to fuck me hard and fast.

But this quiet, slow, gradual heat was better. John’s lips sucked along my neck as he held me close, grinding his hips into mine as he slowly thrusted. I pushed my hips back, gasping every time his thrust was longer and deeper. Progressively our rhythm increased until we were moving back and forth, his cock teasing my g-spot with each stroke.

My orgasm built slowly, until I was sweaty and panting beneath him. My walls started to flutter, and I clenched around him, the tension building in my core. I let out one long sigh, dropping my head back as it began, the pleasure overwhelming me.

“Oh sweetheart.” John muttered, his hands pushing my hair back so he could watch my face.

I moaned, this time too loudly, but I couldn’t stop it. The rush of my orgasm hit me, and I buried my head in John’s shoulder as I came, whimpering against his skin. A quiet groan slipped from John’s throat and he clutched me tight, his eyes closed as he spilled inside me. We swayed together, our hips involuntarily grinding as we came down. The weight of his body relaxed as we caught our breath, my fingers tracing across his back.

I settled across his body, high on hormones and lust. His arms wrapped around me, our legs tangled together, as the rough pads of his fingers traced the tender skin on my arms.

“Yes.” John said quietly, the ticking off the old wooden clock in the hall the only other sound in the house.

“Yes? Like about the boys staying?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’d be good for them. But I don’t want to take advantage. I’ll give you money for food and rent and all that.”

I giggled and tucked my head into his chest, my fingers running through his chest hair. “Thank you.”

John kissed my forehead with a sigh. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

And that’s how I ended up making a home around the Winchester boys. The three us got along well- them at school and me at the bakery during the days, nights spent doing homework while I wasted time on Pinterest. John would call when he was out on hunting trips, relief clear in his voice as I reassured him the boys were doing well. Time passed quickly and the boys started to grow up.

On Saturdays Dean and I would cheer from the stands as Sam tried his best at softball, encouraging him on the ride home after his team lost by 20. And one Sunday I finally got Dean away from the neighbor girl and into the kitchen. I set all of the basic baking ingredients on the counter and patiently taught him how to make apple pie.  

Every time John came home, I knew how much more he cared about me. The only time I ever saw true contentment on his face was when he was laughing with us, talking to an excited Sammy about what he had learned about the planets, or listening to Dean go on and on about the neighbor girl (that was a talk I made John have with him the first day he was home.) And in the process of his time away and then coming home to the three of us, I fell completely in love with him.

Often John would call to hear my voice after murdering a demon. He didn't say much, his voice gruff and quiet, but I knew to distract him with “normal” things, like Sam’s latest field trip and stories from the bakery’s renovation. I knew that deep down he was upset and he just needed some _normal_ for a few minutes.

Sometimes John’s fears dispersed when I’d hand the phone to one of the boys. Dean took the phone one night and told him about winning a fight at school, the pride in his voice evident as he was eager to tell his father how he had shown he was a real man. John encouraged him until I took the receiver back.

"John, they shouldn't be fighting." Dean whined in the background about the punk who went after Sam and deserved the beating. But John could hear my smile from the end of the line. "Well, they shouldn't be fighting at school."

Summer and fall came and went, and then winter. I was grateful to have enough for a bonus that December, allowing me to provide a Christmas for the boys.

Dean dragged the tree through the kitchen, pine needles going everywhere. I clucked my tongue, wanting to warn about the mess. But he was so proud of the cheap little tree. Once it was anchored to the tree stand he nodded and stood back, looking to me for approval.

“That’s an awesome tree, Dean. Perfect for our living room.”

“I know, right? I did good.” Dean sank onto the couch next to me, letting Sam pick out ornaments from a dusty box I had found in the attic. He sighed contentedly. “It is awesome.”

Dean felt safe and curled up next to me as we listened to holiday music and watched Sam decorate. We all paused and were quiet for a second as we heard the key in the lock and John's voice call out as he came in.

I laughed as the boys hollered out hellos, getting up to run and hug him, gathering his attention, until he stared straight at me, looking into my soul before he reached out, took my face in his hands, and kissed me deeply.

"Ewww." Sam grumbled, returning to his Christmas tree. Dean slunk back to the couch as I wrapped my arms around John’s neck and kissed him back.

“Christmas, huh?” John asked as we pulled away.

“They earned it.” I responded. “I’m glad you’re home.”

John grinned and pulled me tighter. “Me too.”

What I didn’t know was that John's heart was conflicted. He loved me. He loved our family, the home I’d put together, the way I took care of all of them. When he was on the road, his mission was to destroy the thing that destroyed his heart. But when he was home, his heart was put back together by my love and the genuine laughter he hadn’t heard from the boys in years.

But I wasn't Mary. And every day that John was gone he argued with himself, trying to let go of Mary but not knowing how. Even after all these years without her, John could still close his eyes and see Mary, hear her laugh. It broke his heart all over again. So he hunted demons and drank himself numb until he could get home to peace with me and the boys again.

He told me later how his friend Ellen had been the one to shake him and make him see the truth. On the way home he was driving through and stopped at Harvelle's. The crew was glad to see him. But Ellen took one look at John's face and knew something was up. Ellen poured a whiskey for John, cheersing him with her own.

“So what’s up with you?” Ellen inquired, staring at the brooding hunter in front of her.

“What do you mean?” John asked gruffly, downing his drink.

“What’d you do? You better not have broken that poor girl’s heart.”

‘No, that’s not it. I’m just…” John shook his head, looking down at the bar. “I’m just afraid I’m getting too close.”

"John Winchester! You have a good woman in front of you!" Ellen scolded John.  


 

"I know. It's just, sometimes I just want to go back in time and redo everything. There’s still a part of me that mourns her, that knows **I want Mary alive.** And it tears me apart because I love Y/N too." John admitted, grief fighting love. "But that's not fair to her or the boys now that she's like a mother to them. Y/N is the only mother that Sammy has ever known."

"Do you love that woman?" Ellen asked sternly, her hand on her hip as she glared at him.

"I didn't intend to.” John muttered, slowly turning his empty glass in his hand. “But yes. Very much."

"Then don't lose her because you're being a dumbass!" Ellen replied as she hit him over the head with a bar towel.

For the first time all day John smiled. “Yes ma’am. Now can I get another drink?”

The next day John drove nonstop back home. My home. But he knew it was his home too.

The boys and I were sitting on the couch, and I was reading aloud to Sam. Dean perched on the side of the couch listening. All three looked up when the screen door swung open, and the boys jumped to their feet.

I followed behind with a smile. After hugging the boys and dropping his duffle on the linoleum, he stepped over and kissed me softly.

Immediately my stomach dropped as my instinct kicked in, telling me something was wrong. John walked into the living room with the boys, his hand on Sam’s shoulder as they talked. But I stayed behind in the kitchen, my feet rooted in place as panic ran through my limbs.

I felt uncomfortable during dinner. I knew something was wrong. After the boys had gone to bed and the dishes were done I turned to him, my arms crossed and my glare fierce. The kitchen was silent except for my shaky breaths.

"John." I started like a quiet warning. "Tell me."

John looked up from the kitchen table, his eyes tired and his face flushed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, tightening my arms around my body as if to brace for impact. There was a sharp ringing in my ears and I worried the floor was going to fall away from my feet.

John shook his head and looked down. “I don’t know how to say...”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“You gotta give me more than that, John.” Anger and sadness competed and I didn’t know which emotion to feel or how to figure out what was happening.

“I’m...I’m confused I guess. I needed that space and being gone this time. I...” John said. “I guess I didn’t realize I would feel like this again for someone.”

I knew I couldn’t compete with Mary’s ghost. That would be a fight I’d lose from the start. I understood the mission for killing the demon. And how much John loved Mary. But I also knew this was my family that I had scraped back together and I didn’t want to let go.

I took a deep breath and walked to the table.

"I can never replace Mary, I get that. I'd never try to.” My voice was quieter this time, and tears started to well in my eyes. “But John, I...I can't stand the idea of you leaving. Are you leaving? The boys leaving?”

I was nauseous with fear and turned away when he didn’t reply, looking up to the ceiling to try and control my tears.

John grabbed my wrist. "No. Don’t walk away."

"John, you can't have it both ways. Be **cause space is just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get too close.** "  My voice started to shake as I tried to keep my composure.

John’s fingers tightened around my wrist. The breath I’d been holding rushed out of my lungs as his slight touch comforted me.

I paused, taking a deep breath. "I want us to be this...this family. But if you don't want me, tell me now. I love Sam and Dean. I love you, John. But you tell me this is over if you don't want me anymore."

John shook his head, looking up and meeting my eyes. There were tears in his eyes. But rather than the remorseful ones I expected, they were tears of happiness, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"I don't want to leave you, sweetheart." John released my wrist, standing up next to me, his free hands finding my waist.  "I want you with me. With my boys."

I smiled, hesitantly placing my hand on his cheek, my palm crossing his soft beard.

“I just, I didn’t know how to say I got scared.” John replied, his face close to mine. “I got scared. But I know this is where I should be. You belong with us.”

“Ok.” I took a deep breath and let it out with a shaky laugh. “Just don’t ever do that again.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” John replied, his face inches from mine.

I tightened my arms over his shoulders, breathing him in as I calmed down and abandoned my overreaction.

"I love you.” John whispered. I knew it was the first time he'd said those three words since 1983. As he smiled a flash of grief was replaced by pure love.

"I love you, John." I leaned up on my tiptoes to meet his lips.

John smiled against my lips as he scooped me up like a new bride, carrying me upstairs to our bedroom and making love to me like we both needed. Like we belonged.

Our family was fractured, pieces of troubled lives that would never be normal. John was broken and guilt ridden, me lonely and with little purpose other than baking, Dean obsessed with cars and girls and being man enough, and Sammy smart and kind, with layers of fear and rebellion that would cause problems someday. Apart we were a mess, but the four of us belonged together- a family made from scratch and layers of sarcasm, love, and consistent requests for pie.

**Author's Note:**

> Property of evansrogerskitten.
> 
> ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post.


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